


Party Time

by Sharpiefan



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types, Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharpiefan/pseuds/Sharpiefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumours have been circulating of a certain pilot's promotion, and Janson just can't pass up the opportunity to celebrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party Time

**Author's Note:**

> This developed from a plotbunny that I got reading Eowyn's post in the LJ Wraith Squadron comm on the 27 June. Not quite sure how it ended up panning out the way it did, but that's the way of the fiction. This is set a few weeks before the novel _Isard's Revenge_ , and was first posted at LJ's wraithsquadron comm on the 11th July 2006. I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters herein. They belong to George Lucas and their creators, I just took them out to play with, and I will return them undamaged.

Wedge looked at his datapad and sighed. They were supposed to be fighting a war here, and he had to give a report on each of his pilots. There had been a time when such things would have been a luxury. Not now, apparently.  
  
 _Capt Tycho Celchu_ was the name now showing on his screen. He sighed. Only ten more after Tycho.  
  
* * * *  
  
Wes grinned at Hobbie as he pulled his friend down a side street.  
  
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hobbie asked as Wes stopped outside a slightly dilapidated store with the legend _Crysto’s Costume Hire_ above the door.  
  
“Have you ever known me not to have a good idea?” Wes countered.  
  
Hobbie shook his head. “Plenty of times. I think Wedge is getting rather tired of Lieutenant Kettch by now.”  
  
“That’s why this has nothing to do with Kettch.” Wes grinned. “Or, maybe I should say, Kettch has nothing to do with this.”  
  
“Wedge isn’t going to like this, you know.”  
  
“He’ll love it. OK, maybe not in public, but it’ll make him smile.” Wes opened the door and pulled his friend inside.  
  
Hobbie blinked at the display that greeted him. Costumes of every conceivable description – and a few inconceivable ones – greeted them. Wes pushed his way through the racks to the counter.  
  
Hobbie followed him. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed something in a very familiar orange, and turned to look. “I don’t believe it,” he said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“How about dressing up as an X-wing pilot?” Hobbie pulled the costume off the rack to show his friend.  
  
“I don’t believe it,” Wes said.  
  
Hobbie cracked a grin. “It’s worse than that.” He twitched the sleeve towards Wes. “You could go as Commander Antilles, if you really wanted. It’s got two Death Star tabs on it!”  
  
“One Wedge is quite bad enough, Hobbie.”  
  
A dusty droid, festooned in ribbons, emerged from a curtained-off room at the back of the store. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”  
  
“We’d like to reserve a couple of costumes for two days’ time, please,” Wes replied.  
  
“Have you made your selection yet, or do you require some aid?”  
  
“Give us a few minutes,” Wes replied. “Put it back, Hobbie. Fancy dress means fancy dress, not uniform.”  
  
Hobbie sighed and returned the flight suit to the rack. “I don’t care what you decide to wear, Wes, but I am _not_ going as a Twi-lek dancing girl!”  
  
“No, that’s what Inyri’s going as. You haven’t got the figure for it!”  
  
“I’m glad we agree on something.”  
  
“And there are other things you could wear. How about going as Darth Vader?”  
  
“Certainly not!”  
  
“Or a Wookiee? Or - I know!” Wes pulled a collection of gold-coloured, plastic pieces from a corner. “C-3PO!”  
  
“Wes! No!”  
  
Wes ignored him, busily looking through the racks. “Aha!” He held up a hanger with a set of Jedi robes on it. “Does this one come with a lightsaber?”  
  
“If Wedge knew you were within ten parsecs of a lightsaber, I don’t know what he’d do!”  
  
Wes took the costumes over to the counter. “We’ll have these two,” he said.  
  
Hobbie inserted himself between the counter and Wes. “I am not going as C-3PO.” He turned to the droid. “I’ll take the Wookiee costume.”  
  
“You’re too short for a Wookiee, you know.”  
  
“I’m too short for Threepio as well. At least I’ll be able to eat and drink in the Wookiee get-up.”  
  
“Good point.” Wes turned back to the droid. “OK, we’ll take the Jedi Knight and the Wookiee.”  
  
“What name shall I put on the reservation ticket?” the droid asked, swivelling its head to look between Wes and Hobbie.  
  
“Klivian, for the Wookiee one,” Hobbie said.  
  
“And Janson, for the Jedi Knight. And we’ll pick them up in two days’ time, OK?”  
  
“Will there be anything else?”  
  
“No, that’s all. Thanks.” Hobbie steered his friend back out of the shop. “Now, back to Squadron Headquarters, right?”  
  
“Wrong. I need a lightsaber to go with that. And I know just the place.”  
  
Hobbie shook his head but followed Janson up two levels and along a busy thoroughfare before his friend stopped outside a warehouse.  
  
“This looks like the place,” Wes said.  
  
Hobbie took in the façade in disbelief. “It’s a warehouse, Wes. Since when do lightsabers get left lying around warehouses?”  
  
“It’s not just any warehouse, Hobbie. And I’m not after a working lightsaber, am I?”  
  
“Wedge will be glad to know that,” Hobbie muttered, following Wes inside.  
  
He stopped short, looking around in amazement. The place was huge, with shelves of toys extending in all directions as far as the eye could see.  
  
“Where do you think Lt Kettch came from?” Wes asked as Hobbie’s gaze lighted on an aisle dedicated to stuffed Ewok toys of all sizes.  
  
He pulled Hobbie deeper and deeper into the place until they found what they were after. “Lightsabers. With light-up plastic blade and sound effect. What do you think, Hobbie? Blue or green?”  
  
“Blue. It won’t clash with Wedge’s face when he turns purple and starts spluttering at you!”  
  
“And I want a couple of these, too!” Wes threw something at Hobbie, who caught it purely by reflex. “Water blasters!”  
  
“Wedge is going to _kill_ you, Wes. I hope I’m around to see it!”  
  
“Oh, these aren’t for the party, Hobbie. These are for afterwards.”  
  
Hobbie shook his head and pulled Wes towards the checkout area. “Does Wedge even know what sort of party you’re planning?”  
  
“I haven’t commed him to tell him we’re even having a party yet, Hobbie!”  
  
Hobbie shook his head. “You’re incorrigible, you know that, Wes?”  
  
“But I’ll tell him as soon as we’re back, I promise.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
  
* * * *  
  
Wedge shook his head at the message displayed on his datapad.  
  
 _You are invited to attend a fancy dress party being held in Rogue Squadron’s hangar tomorrow, from 2000 hours till late. Bring a friend. This message will self-destruct when read._  
  
The lettering flickered from green to red, and then was replaced with the words _Yub, yub, Commander!_ before the original message was displayed again.  
  
 _I’m going to get you, Wes Janson,_ Wedge thought. _I don’t know how yet, but rest assured, I will get you!_ He reached for his comlink.  
  
“Wedge to Tycho, report to my office, please.”  
  
Five minutes later, the office door slid open to admit Tycho Celchu. The Alderaanian was carrying his own datapad.  
  
“Ah, you’ve already seen it,” Tycho said, taking a seat across from Wedge’s desk.  
  
“Is there any way we can call this off?”  
  
“No.” Tycho’s face was merry. “All the work on the X-wings was finished by this afternoon, and there is no other reason to declare the hangar off-limits. And even if we could find a reason, Janson would just move his party elsewhere. Somewhere we couldn’t keep an eye on the proceedings.”  
  
“We’ve been invited to the proceedings.” Wedge looked gloomy.  
  
“It’s a party, Wedge. It’s nothing to get depressed about!”  
  
“It’s a fancy-dress party, organised by Wes Janson.”  
  
“Well, there’ll be plenty of drink going then.”  
  
“That will hardly do anything for his maturity, Tycho.”  
  
“It’s a party. Just go along and have fun.”  
  
“And what am I supposed to go as?”  
  
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. I’ve got my own costume to think about, I can’t be coming up with ideas for you as well.”  
  
Wedge grinned suddenly. “At least it’ll take my mind off these damn annual personnel reports. Whose idea was that anyway?”  
  
“No idea, but if I find out, we can set Janson on them!”  
  
Wedge laughed. “All right. Go and get a costume together, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”  
  
* * * *  
  
  
Janson watched as the last of the X-wings was manoeuvred to the edge of the hangar, leaving enough space for the dance floor, with the buffet table set up well out of the danger zone.  
  
He had persuaded Emtrey to scrounge some decent food from the kitchens, before collecting his costume and Hobbie’s from Crysto’s, along with a third one.  
  
Finally, everything was ready. He slipped along to his quarters to change.  
  
* * * *  
  
The party was in full swing. Several couples were on the makeshift dance floor. Wedge stood by the buffet table, shaking his head. Tycho came over. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“My invitation said fancy dress, I take it yours did as well.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“So what’s with all the people dressed, well, normally?”  
  
Tycho cracked a grin. “That’ll be Janson’s idea of a joke. And, admit it. You make a good pirate.”  
  
Wedge was wearing a bright red shirt, black trousers and had a blue sash round his waist. He had a patch over one eye and the ensemble was completed by the scowl on his face. He looked at Tycho and the scowl was replaced by a grin. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Nerf herder!”  
  
Tycho was wearing a typically rural costume of shirt, trousers and poncho. “Well, it was either that or a smuggler. And it looks as though there are plenty of those among all the Princess Leias out there.”  
  
“The only thing that keeps you from looking a proper yokel is the lack of a hat.”  
  
Tycho turned around. Sure enough, there was a broad-brimmed hat on his back, hanging from a string round his neck.  
  
Wedge put a hand over his eyes. He recognised the get-up from when the Wraiths had infiltrated the world of Storinal, during their hunt for Warlord Zsinj. “Let me guess. You got the costume from Face?”  
  
Tycho bobbed his head. “Oyah. You’re pretty smart for a city guy!”  
  
Wedge groaned. “I’m surprised I haven’t developed a paranoia complex by now. Every time I turn around, someone’s there, winding me up!”  
  
Tycho’s eyes widened as he looked over Wedge’s shoulder. “Then may I suggest that you don’t turn around?”  
  
Wedge blinked and spun round. “There’s nobody there.”  
  
“Look down.”  
  
Wedge looked down and closed his eyes. “No.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
It looked like a Jawa standing in front of him, but the sleeves of the robe were too short to cover Lieutenant Kettch’s paws. “I am going to kill Janson.”  
  
“Well, wait until the party’s over first. And it’s not fair to kill him just because Kettch showed up. After all, he’s as much a part of the squadron as you are.”  
  
Wedge turned back to Tycho. “Kettch is part of Wraith Squadron. I’m not Wraith Leader any more. That position has been filled by Face Loran.”  
  
“I think Kettch has followed you back to the Rogues, Wedge. There’s no getting away from him now.”  
  
Wedge reached for a glass of Whyren’s Reserve whisky. “In that case, I may just take the promotion to General that Ackbar’s been trying to foist on me for I don’t know how long. That way, I could leave you to deal with Janson and the errant Kettch!”  
  
“That would be beneath you, Wedge.”  
  
There was a slight commotion across the hangar from Wedge and Tycho and they turned to watch as Wes Janson climbed onto the S-foil of one of the parked X-wings. He let his robe fall open and raised his lightsaber. “Ladies and gentlemen, and other sentient beings! You may be wondering what the occasion is for this party. I am pleased to announce that we are celebrating the promotion of Wedge Antilles from Commander to General. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard me correctly.” He pointed the lightsaber in Wedge’s direction. “Our gallant Commander Antilles is no more. Please give a warm welcome to General Antilles, who has managed to skip the ranks of Major and Colonel through never being around when they had spare rank tabs to give out, but failed to be away when they had an extra General’s tab going!”  
  
The assembled guests applauded and cheered as Wes scrambled back down to the deck.  
  
Wedge’s mouth fell open. “I am going to _kill_ him!”  
  
Tycho grinned. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty. We all know it’s coming sooner or later. He’s just practising for when you do finally accept it, you know!”  
  
Wedge pushed his way through the crowd, towards the X-wing Wes had used as an impromptu platform. He avoided as many handshakes and words of congratulation as he could until he found himself next to Wes, who was talking to a Wookiee. Wedge looked at the furry alien. “Aren’t you a little short for a Wookiee?” he asked, trying to sound amused.  
  
“Blame the costume on this furball here,” the Wookiee answered. Hobbie pulled the costume’s head off to take a breath of fresh air. At the look on Wedge’s face, he turned to his friend. “You’re on your own, Wes. I don’t think he looks too happy!”  
  
Wedge waited until Hobbie was out of earshot before turning to Wes. “What’s the idea, Janson?”  
  
“Squadron rumour has it you’re going to get your promotion within the next couple of months, Wedge. There’s nothing you can do about it. Ackbar has his heart set on you becoming a general. You know that as much as we do!”  
  
“That’s Admiral Ackbar to you, Lieutenant.”  
  
Wes did not look apologetic. “And I thought you should start getting used to the sound of General Antilles.”  
  
Wedge shook his head, and scrambled up onto the X-wing. There were cheers from the assembled crowd, and he held up his hand to silence them. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that reports of my promotion have been greatly exaggerated.” There was a chorus of groans from the assembly. “I am still a Commander, but I have no doubt you will hear of any promotions within Rogue Squadron as soon as I know of them. Thank you!”  
  
He climbed down. “As for you, Lieutenant, you’re on clean-up duty tomorrow. I want this hangar returned to its usual pristine condition by lunchtime. And I will only allow you the help you had to get it into this state in the first place. Understood?”  
  
“Yes, sir. And sir?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Can I keep the lightsaber?” There was a gleam in Wes’ eyes as he asked the question.  
  
“No, you may not!” Wedge turned back to enjoy the rest of the party. _At least it’s taken my mind off those ridiculous reports, I guess,_ he thought to himself.  
  
****  
  
Wedge smiled to himself as he watched Wes begin clearing up the mess in the hangar. He pulled out his datapad and looked down at the name now showing.  
  
 _Lt Wes Janson._ Only nine more to do after this one. He grinned and began Janson’s report. _Men will follow this officer, but only out of curiosity._


End file.
